Meanwhile Caroline was making preparations to go, having thrown down the gauntlet of defiance to the whole household, and, when she wants to be stubborn, I assure you that she can be one of the worst hardheads in the world. Tommie smoothed down Genevieve, and got her to reduce her objections to a mere silent attitude of disapproval. Mrs. Rhodes insisted that the two young folks promise to leave Baltimore not later than one o’clock, which Jeffreys quite volubly agreed to do.
On Friday evening I dressed immediately after dinner, called for Tommie, and we took an early train from 11th Street, in order to avoid the possibility of meeting Caroline and Jeffreys. We thought it best to surprise them. The ride over, usually so tiresome, was very delightful to me, for Tommie is exceptionally good company, and as sensible a girl as one could find in a day’s journey. The man who gets her for a wife will be lucky, indeed!
We had no trouble finding the hall, for Tommie knows Baltimore very well—which I do not. After Washington, with its wide, asphalted, clean-swept streets, Baltimore makes a very bad impression by contrast, though it is a bigger and busier city in many respects. But I shan’t take time to dilate on that topic now. The hall was beautiful, the crowd very attractive. My friend Scott Green was most kind, introduced us to everybody, and seemed to get a terrible crush on Tommie. We were quite in the middle of things, and enjoying a most “scrumptious” time, when Caroline and Jeffreys arrived. Of all the surprised people you ever saw, they were the worst. Caroline was plainly pleased, especially to see Tommie, but somehow Jeffreys’ cordiality did not ring quite true to me, even after I had made generous allowance for my prejudice against him. Fortunately, I had just engaged a dance with Tommie, so we were able to compare notes without exciting Jeffreys’s suspicions. We both agreed that Caroline, whom her worst enemy could not call deceitful, was really glad we had come, and we agreed just as completely that Jeffreys was annoyed, and that he could be annoyed only because our presence might interfere with private arrangements of his own. So we planned to keep them both, and especially Jeffreys, in sight, and if Tommie noted them leaving she was to stop dancing to let me know.
I observed that Jeffreys was terribly busy talking during the intermission between dances with the flashy man and woman I had seen in the restaurant in Washington. He had presented Caroline to these people and to one or two others who were, to me, no more prepossessing. To tell the truth, I wondered how they had gotten into an affair of this kind. I noted that he did not present these friends to either Tommie or me, though he did introduce two other friends, a young chap named Lacy and a Miss Hunt, a smart-looking person with a rather taking manner. Just before the intermission for refreshments, Lacy brought Miss Hunt up to where Tommie and I were standing, and as I had not yet asked the lady for a dance, I did so, and was told I could have the second dance after the intermission. At the same time Lacy asked Miss Dawson if he could not have that dance with her.
I noted at the close of the intermission that Jeffreys had been drinking, and Caroline gave every sign of overstimulation. She is a regular little hoyden when she wants to be, but in a large gathering such as this she has the manners one would expect from a girl brought up in a cultivated home. So when she commenced to laugh rather noisily, I looked at Tommie and Tommie’s glance confirmed me in my suspicion. I don’t think I was ever in my life more angry over anything which was not directly a personal concern of mine. Why do men of a certain type take peculiar delight in spoiling girls whose worst fault is really a foolish giddiness? But, as I judge the thing by the event, I suppose I cannot in all truth ascribe this to mere moral vandalism on Jeffreys’ part, for rather it must be regarded as just one step in a carefully matured plan.
To omit nothing in the way of a precaution, I sought out my friend Scott Green, and asked him what was the cabaret resort usually visited by parties composed of people like Jeffreys’ Baltimore friends. He thought a place called Martin’s would be the most likely place, and he gave me the exact address. Then I went to the coatroom and got my wraps, and gave them to the doorman, together with a half dollar. “I may have to make time,” I said to that worthy, “and I want these where I can grab them in passing.” I told Tommie that if Jeffreys was planning anything crooked, he would have to spring it sometime before the close of the dance, so one of us ought to be near the exit. Unfortunately, we both had the second dance after the intermission engaged, but I promised Tommie that I should not dance again after that. As it turned out, however, I did not have to keep my promise, for just in the middle of that particular dance, I heard my name called, and here was Tommie, followed by the reluctant Lacy, “blocking traffic” in a fashion no doubt extremely irritating to the other dancers.
“They’ve gone!” she said simply.
In a flash I swung the startled Miss Hunt into the arms of the surprised Mr. Lacy, and with the sketchiest kind of “Pardon me,” I was on my way to the door, with more disturbance of traffic en route. I snatched up my coat and hat, and took the stairs two and, I imagine, even three at a time. When I emerged into the street, I saw an automobile moving off from the curb. As luck would have it, there were several taxis standing near. I made a flying jump into the first one, and ordered the man to follow the moving car. It was evident that Jeffreys did not know he was being followed, for his car was going at an ordinary pace, and it was easy to keep in sight. Soon it stopped before a brightly lighted place which looked like a restaurant. My driver told me it was Martin’s. I thrust a bill into his hand, and told him to wait for me. Then I got out in the shadow of the car, and watched the party of six, in which I plainly recognized Caroline and Jeffreys, alight. I followed them as closely as I dared.
To my chagrin, the third man in the party, who was unknown to me, stopped in the entrance walk with someone coming out, and the rest went on. Fearing he might know who I was, even though I did not know him, I waited in an agony of impatience. Finally, he, too, disappeared inside. Then I went back to my waiting car, and asked the driver if he knew how the land lay in Martin’s. He did—and he told me the best way to proceed. I went in the same entrance in which Jeffreys’s party had disappeared, and, turning to the left, as I had been directed, opened a small door and saw a sleepy man standing there at the foot of a stairway. I said to him, “I’m with Mr. Jeffreys’s party,” and, without hesitating, went boldly up. For some reason he did not stop me, but at the top of the stairs I had a different experience. The guardian of the upper landing was the real Cerberus, and he stood resolutely on the top step, effectually blocking the road.
“I belong with Mr. Jeffreys’ party,” I said, smiling genially.
“I don’t know Mr. Jeffreys,” he said, with a sort of unflickering wooden stare.
I described Mr. Jeffreys and I described the party.
“Nobody in any such party said they were expecting anyone,” he said, calmly.
I fingered two bills—one a two, the other a five. I handed him the two. “Go to Mr. Jeffreys’ room, and ask him if he is not expecting Mr. Lacy, and if he says, ‘No,’ I’ll give you the fiver.” He hesitated, fingered the bill a moment, looked at the fiver in my hand, looked me up and down, and, I suppose, noted that I was in evening dress, as were the members of the party I was seeking. I think this last detail probably decided him.
“What name did you say?”
“Lacy,” said I. “Mr. Lacy.”
He turned on his heel, and walked quickly down the heavily carpeted hall, and I followed him as noiselessly as I could, and not too closely. Just before we reached the door of the last room on the right, I heard a voice which made every nerve in my body jump! It was Caroline’s voice and the tone was half anger, half fear. It was hard to control my impulse to rush forward, but somehow I managed it. The guardian of the landing paused at this very door, and knocked. After a moment’s delay the door was opened less than halfway, and there was a distinct sound of a struggle, smothered exclamations, and finally a half-articulate cry—this time of real fear. This was too much for me, and with one
motion I had thrown myself past the attendant, and into the doorway. One more swing of my shoulder and I was in the room. I shall not do violence to my own feelings, much less yours, by describing in detail what I saw. Everyone started back when they saw me, of course, but I had eyes only for Caroline—and Jeffreys. In the twinkling of an eye, he released her, and she fell, half fainting, to the floor. Jeffreys had plainly been drinking heavily, for I had never before seen him so lose his unshakable poise. His expression was not pretty to see. I was shocked beyond words, and then, when I saw Caroline lying helpless on the floor, all the devil that is in me—and I guess we all have aplenty lurking somewhere about us—came to the surface in one burst of blind, yet calculating, rage. And here comes the one dizzy, inspired moment for which my preamble was written so many pages back! I took Jeffreys’ powerful figure, his face, almost bestially ferocious in its expression of balked desire, and I picked out the spot where I knew I was going to hit him—an inch to the right, just under his chin. I made a lightning feint with my left hand, which brought both his hands up, and then, with every minutest ounce of weight and muscle and will, I drove my right fist on the very dot I had chosen. It was the hardest, cleanest blow I have ever struck. Jeffreys seemed to rise from the floor and then crumpled up in a limp heap, without sound or motion. I never looked at him again, for I knew by the “feel” that he wouldn’t trouble anybody again that night. His two male companions started forward, and then stopped dead in their tracks, and stood looking down at him as if awestruck. The two women cowered together in one corner, whimpering. I took Caroline’s wrap from the floor beside her, rolled her up in it—her waist had been torn practically off in the struggle with Jeffreys—picked her up tenderly in my arms, and without a word or a look went out of the door, while Jeffreys’ four friends stood, looking stupidly with open mouths.
When I got out into the hall, here was Cerberus again and for a second I anticipated trouble. But I might have spared myself even this very momentary apprehension. He was standing staring at me with eyes wide open. Then he spoke.
“Foh Gawd, Mistuh, you swings a nasty right. Wid dese eyes I seen Bob Fitzsimmons break de flo wid Jim Hall’s haid down in Noo Yawlins, an’ way back dere in ’97, I seen him paralyze Jim Corbett wid dat turribul solah plexus blow, but in all my bawn days I nebber seed no such cut down as dat. Who is you, Mistuh?” And he followed me respectfully to the stairs.
I suppose I shall regret that my concern for Caroline, and my anxiety to avoid any public scandal, prevented me from enjoying this moment of real, unalloyed triumph, and this perfect, wholly unsought tribute. But, to tell the truth, it was only later that the scene and the quaint words of the attendant came back to me.
I ran down the stairs, and, in my excitement, though Caroline is no featherweight, she impeded me no more than would a small doll baby. I asked the doorman to get my car as quietly as possible, showing him a dollar bill. In a moment, and with absolutely no publicity, I had Caroline in the car. Then I asked the chauffeur to get me a glass of cold water from the restaurant. In a few minutes the young lady was thoroughly conscious, but a little dazed, and it was pitiful the way she clung to me. I have never in my life struck a man when he was down, but I really believe that if I had had Jeffreys right there in front of me, even helpless as he was, I should have struck him again and again.
We drove back to the hall, and I started to alight to get Scott Green and Tommie, but Caroline seemed so averse to my leaving her that I sent the chauffeur. It was not many seconds before both of them came flying out, and in a moment Tommie had Caroline in her arms. Green and I conferred. I did not want to take Caroline on the train, and yet I did not want to pay taxi hire to a Baltimore car for a trip to Washington. Green said he could fix that, for he knew two or three Washington cars which were always waiting about, looking for chance passengers for the home trip. Soon he was back with a man he could recommend, and had brought extra robes for the trip—I must really do something nice for Green, for he certainly acted like an officer and a gentleman! Well, I paid off my Baltimore chauffeur, and we started for home, with Tommie and Caroline snugly wrapped up, and Caroline between the two of us. At a big restaurant we stopped, and sent the chauffeur in for some steaming cups of hot coffee, which did us all good, even Caroline.
I had told Tommie about the condition of Caroline’s waist, and we both thought it was best not to take the time to fix it in Baltimore, but Tommie said she would take Caroline to her house for the night, and everything could be all fixed up by morning, when I could bring over one of her school suits, and the necessary changes. I need not say that I breathed prayers of thanksgiving all the way over at the manner in which everything had turned out. Such a nasty mess as it might have been, had the cat just once jumped the wrong way!
At first Caroline was so silent I began to get nervous, but just before we got to the District line, she commenced to cry, not hysterically, but softly, and she snuggled down close against me. So I put my arm around her, and let her cry to her heart’s content, while Tommie looked over at me and smiled approval. Before we got to Tommie’s we were all talking and laughing, more or less as usual, but none of us referred to Jeffreys nor his friends nor the nasty incident of the evening.
Then my hand commenced to pain me, or rather, I suppose, I just became aware of it, and, inadvertently, I spoke of it, a fact I instantly regretted, for nobody present knew of the “haymaker” that had put Jeff out of the picture.
“Your hand?” said Tommie, unsuspectingly. “Have you hurt it, and how?”
“I was just trying to think,” I lied glibly.
Soon we arrived at Tommie’s and we all went in. Tommie made a light in the hall, and I told the taximan to wait for me for a moment or two, for I wanted to be sure everything was all right.
Tommie left us to light up her room.
Caroline came over to where I was standing, and, putting up her hands, pulled my face down.
“Old Grouchy,” she said, “I have been a bad girl, and I’ve been punished, so don’t scold me! I did not know when I adopted you as my godfather that I was adopting an angel—a real guardian angel—in disguise. How did I ever do without you so long! Someday I’ll thank you, but I shan’t try it now.”
I had an insane impulse to kiss her, she did look so like a forlorn little girl, but thanks to my own guardian angel, I resisted. These cute little girls are always playing the devil with a man’s good sense.
So I bade her good night, and went out to the waiting car. When I got home I knocked on Mrs. Rhodes’s door and told her that Caroline was back in town and at Tommie Dawson’s house.
“Where is Mr. Jeffreys?” she asked.
“For some reason, he did not come back tonight. We left him in Baltimore.”
“But did you go? I did not know you and Tommie were to be there, or I should not have made such a fuss about Caroline’s going.”
“Well, we did not know it until the last minute.”
So I bade her good night—repeated the same message to Genevieve, who had heard me talking, and who spoke to me through her closed door—and I went up to my room.
When I had turned on the light, I examined my hand and wrist, which were throbbing away at a great rate. My knuckles were badly skinned, and smarted considerably. It looked as if I had sprained my hand. Well, it was a good cause, and I could only wonder how Jeff’s jaw felt. Plenty of witch hazel and a firm bandage made me feel better, and I went to bed, “dog tired,” and slept like a log.
Next morning the wrist was much better, and I rubbed it down hard with a healing balm, put on a simpler bandage, and took good care to put on my glove so that Mrs. Rhodes would ask no questions. In spite of her perfunctory protest against what she called my “spoiling that bad girl,” I took a small handbag of clothes to Tommie’s for Caroline. The girls were not up when I left it at the door.
This letter was written Saturday and Sunday morning. I have not seen the girls since I left them at Tommie’s. My wrist is bette
r, so much better that writing causes me little trouble. I am going to Lillian Barton’s at about five today, and I shall mail this as I go out. Jeffreys has, of course, not appeared, but, fortunately, his habits are so regularly irregular (to use a paradoxical expression) that his absence will cause no special comment. I am curious to know what he will do.
This is a long letter, but I have lived so quietly now for these two or three years that even a near adventure is quite exciting. I like what you say about the Richmond Hill girl. I should like, indeed, to see her. But first come down here, and let me show you a thing or two. Till next time, Bob, I am, etc.
Davy
SIX
Virtue is its own reward. Thanksgiving. The big game.
On with the dance. A doctor with heart trouble—
a bad case. Fiddling while Rome burns.
Sunday morning, December 3, 1922
Dear Bob:
Well, Buddie, Thanksgiving has come and gone since last I wrote to you, and we certainly did have a “whale” of a time! I wish you might have been here. However, there is one consoling thought, that if you had been here then, you would not be coming for Christmas, and do you realize that Christmas is just three weeks off?
I hardly know where to begin, there is so much to tell, and I guess the best I can do, in any event, is to give you a mere synopsis, for the four days from Wednesday to Saturday, inclusive, were a whirling panorama of functions of every kind.
Of course I had been wondering what Jeffreys would do, especially as he had already invited his friend to spend the weekend with him. I had no idea that Caroline would say anything to her mother about the Baltimore affair, but, as I have since discovered, that young lady’s reactions cannot be forecasted as accurately as one might imagine. Naturally, I did not think that even Jeffreys would have the nerve to expect to remain here as a lodger, though I did feel that he might have nerve enough to stay the month out, since there were only three or four days left, and since he had invited his friend for the weekend. If he should do this, it would of course be awkward for Caroline, Thomasine, and me, for we knew so much about him, while Mrs. Rhodes and Genevieve did not. So all day Sunday I was in a mild state of wonder over the matter.
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